Chapter 5 #2
Why couldn’t he have gained a hundred pounds? Or lost all his hair? A comb-over would be nice right about now; a long, swooping, cotton candy one all swirled on the top of his head. But no, Nico’s still ridiculously good-looking. He probably has women flinging themselves at his feet all the time.
Not that I care.
“So,” he adds. “Have you remembered anything yet?”
Dragging my thoughts away comb-overs and giant bellies and unfortunate warts, I reply, “No. Not yet. The neurologist said they could come back in hours, days, weeks, or maybe never.”
“Never?” His eyebrows shoot up. “The doctor said that?”
“He did. He said, and I quote, the brain is a funny thing.”
“A funny thing?” Nico scowls. Then he reaches for his pocket. “He doesn’t sound like a very skilled doctor to me. Maybe you should look for a second opinion. A doctor with extensive experience with retrograde amnesia.”
“I know you’re eager for me to remember why I came to see you. But that doesn’t mean you have to camp out by my room. As soon as I remember, I promise, I’ll tell you.”
Those two spots of pink flare on his cheeks again. “Yes, I’m curious why you came. But that’s not why I want you to regain your memories. If you remember what happened yesterday, it might help the police catch who did this to you.”
“Assuming I saw anything useful,” I retort. “The people who intervened said the attackers were wearing masks. So even if I do remember, it might not help identify them.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have motive to hurt you? An ex? A disgruntled coworker? A former client?”
A cold pit settles into my stomach. I don’t want to think about anyone I know wanting to hurt me.
“The police already asked, but you probably know that. Don’t you?”
Nico’s gaze slides to the left. “Maybe.”
“You hacked—” Suddenly, I remember there could be police coming by to see me any time. And as annoyed as I am at Nico, I don’t want him arrested, either. So in a much quieter tone, I continue, “Did you hack into the police computers?”
He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s not important. But yes, I know they already asked you about possible suspects. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have thought of someone new.”
“I work alone,” I tell him. “Aside from my accountant, it’s just me. And I seriously doubt my accountant has a vendetta against me. Unless it’s because he’s tired of my disorganized bookkeeping.”
“Clients? Ex boyfriends?”
“I don’t really deal with high stakes cases. Maybe some cheating husbands, someone who pretends to be injured to claim disability, but that’s it. I can’t imagine—”
“You never know what could set someone off. So it’s something to consider. And what about an ex? Someone angry that you broke up with him?”
My fingers twist into the sheets. “No. Not recently. Angry or otherwise.”
In truth, which I’m not telling Nico, I haven’t dated anyone seriously in over two years. And seriously is probably a gross overstatement. I dated Ric for three months before he decided to get back together with his ex-girlfriend and first love from high school.
Which is pretty ironic, considering.
Nico stares at me. His brows pull together, forming a tiny line between them.
He used to get that line when we were studying, and I’d trace it with my finger and call it his thinking line.
Then he’d catch my hand and pull me to him, kissing me until all either of us could think about was each other.
I can remember how I felt back then, my body flooded with desire, my heart racing in anticipation, heat building between my thighs and coiling deep inside me. I’d feel Nico’s erection jutting hard against my belly, and we’d exchange this silent look, and—
Augh.
Stop thinking about the good times, my inner voice of logic scolds. Think about Nico breaking your heart. Think about the days and weeks and months after, when the world felt so dark and empty, it was hard to even get out of bed.
I know that voice is right.
But it’s hard to shove those memories away when Nico’s standing right in front of me.
“I’m sure the police will find a lead,” I say, desperate to think about something—anything—different. “Or my memory will come back. And in the meantime, I’ll be careful. Add extra security at my apartment.”
“Sofia.”
“I won’t do nighttime surveillance anymore. And I’ll make sure it’s still light when I leave work. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Sofia.” It’s lower. More commanding.
“You don’t have to worry about me. Not like you’re worried, I’m not saying that. But you don’t have to… I don’t know, feel obligated to keep an eye on me. Just because of last night. Because you don’t. I don’t expect anything.”
“Sofia.” Nico touches my arm. His gaze is dark and intense as it burns into mine. “You can’t go home. It’s not safe.”
“I have to. There’s no place else to go.”
“What about Brian?”
My head jerks back. “How do you know about Brian?”
“I looked you up. Last night.” There’s no apology. Just a straightforward admission. “I know Brian owned A1 before he sold it to you. And he lives in Florida. That’s far enough—”
“He lives with his son. And his son’s wife and children. There’s no way I’m going to stay with him. Not a chance.”
“Well, your aunt wouldn’t be ideal, since she’s more vulnerable, but she does live in Arizona…”
“You looked up my aunt, too?” My voice rises. “Is there anything you didn’t look up about me? My DNA? What I bought at the grocery store last week?”
“I was worried,” Nico snaps. His cheeks flush. “And for good reason. Considering when I came back—”
Then he stops. Stalks over to the window and stares out it. His shoulders rise and fall several times. When he turns back to me, guilt has replaced the anger in his eyes. “Shit, Soph. If I hadn’t come back, if I’d been a few minutes later…”
My stomach lurches. “But you came back.”
“I shouldn’t have left. I should have known better. It’s my fucking job to protect people, and I just left, knowing you were in—”
“Is there a problem in here?” A nurse pokes her head inside the room. She glares at Nico before looking at me. “Are you okay, Miss Shaw?”
For just a second, I consider saying no. That Nico is bothering me, and that he needs to leave. Nico wouldn’t want to make a scene, so he’d have to go.
But I don’t. Instead, I force a weak smile and say, “I’m fine. Mr. Parisi is just upset about the situation.”
The nurse looks at him again, and he smiles at her. “I apologize for raising my voice,” he says. “I’m just very concerned about my friend’s safety.”
She practically dissolves into a puddle. “Oh, of course, Mr. Parisi.” All of a sudden, she’s not worried about me anymore. “It’s good that Miss Shaw has someone looking out for her.”
He shoots her one of those panty-melting smiles that used to drive me mad. “Oh, absolutely.”
My teeth grind together.
Once the nurse leaves, I snap, “Maybe you should go after her. Ask for her number.”
His forehead creases in confusion. “What?”
My face heats. Great. Now I sound like a jealous ex. Which I patently am not.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “Anyway, I have to go home. That’s the end of it. Whenever I’m released—”
“This afternoon.”
“What?”
“This afternoon,” he repeats. “Assuming you have someone who can look after you, you’ll be released this afternoon.”
“How did you—”
ARGH.
“Stop looking at my medical records,” I snap. “Stop researching me. Just ask questions like a normal person.”
Hurt flickers in his eyes again. “I was trying to help.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from yelling. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why are you helping?”
Nico goes quiet. That line between his eyebrows etches deep. “Because I don’t want you hurt,” he finally says. “And you’re in danger. You know it. I know it.”
Some of the anger fades. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. That’s fair. I know it’s not the ideal situation. But really, Nico. Just ask. If you want to know about my aunt, or Brian, or—”
“Alright.”
I blink at him again. “Alright?”
“Yes. You’re right. I’ll ask next time. Unless it’s a life or death situation. Then all bets are off.”
“Wait. Next time?”
“Sofia.” He crosses the room, coming back to stand by the side of my bed. “Listen. I know this isn’t ideal. But I think the best bet is for you to stay with me.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
His chin lifts. “It makes the most sense. My place is safe. I have plenty of room. There’s a guest suite you can stay in, and I’ll be working a lot, so we won’t even see each other that much.”
Ouch.
I’m not sure why that stings. It just does.
“You said there’s no place else to go,” Nico adds. “Your apartment isn’t safe. Those attackers in the alley, they looked in your wallet. They know where you live. Where you work. And with you not knowing what they look like…”
With a sinking feeling, I realize he’s right. The men who hurt me could live right in my building and I’d have no idea. It could be someone who works in the same office building. It could be literally anyone.
And my apartment isn’t as safe as I made it out to be, either. It’s mostly safe. But I’m on the ground floor. Someone could break a window and be inside in under a minute. If I go home, I won’t be able to go anywhere without worrying. Without being scared.
Without being in danger.
“Look,” Nico says. He waits until my gaze meets his. “What happened before; it’s not important right now. What’s important is keeping you safe. We’ll keep to ourselves as much as we can. You can rest in the bedroom, watch TV, work on those boring puzzles you used to like—”
“They’re not boring. They’re relaxing.”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
And it throws me right back to the days when he’d help me with my puzzles. When he’d spend hours doing something I know he thought was boring just because I liked it.
Gah.
What he’s saying makes sense. My apartment isn’t safe. I’m not willing to risk my aunt. Or Brian. Moving to Dubai right now probably isn’t an option. So where does that leave me?
But can I really go through with it? Live with my ex when the sight of him makes my heart feel like it’s dying all over again?
While I’m debating, Nico touches my hand. It’s just a brush of his fingertip across my skin. “I know you don’t love the idea. But, Soph.” His expression goes earnest. “I should have been here last night. I knew better. And I’m so fucking sorry. Let me do this, at least. Okay?”
So he wants to help me to appease his own guilt.
Too late, I want to say.
But although I might be stubborn to a fault at times, I’m not stupid. So I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I nod. “Okay.”